


La Découverte

by Finely Honed (jaqen_hgar)



Series: Morphology [8]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Beverly's Birthday is Dangerous, Bottom Will Graham, Drinking, Drug Use, Fun, M/M, Mirror Sex, Oral Sex, Rimming, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Top Hannibal Lecter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-20
Updated: 2014-04-20
Packaged: 2018-01-20 03:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1495579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaqen_hgar/pseuds/Finely%20Honed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“<em>Spontaneity plays a crucial role in the achievement of happiness. It’s important to challenge our self-imposed constraints.</em>”</p><p>Beverly has very specific plans for celebrating her birthday. Much to Will's dismay, Hannibal agrees to participate. Before the night is over, Will manages to drink the wrong drink, embarrass Hannibal in public, gets into a fight, and is subjected to the horrors of dancing. Hannibal has no choice but to take him home and force Will to take a good, long, hard look at himself.</p><p>A little fun, a little cracky, a lot dirty. This would be set in the Morphology universe post <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1222504">Intervallo</a>, pre <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037699">Not To Die of The Truth</a>, but it is sort of out of character due to what goes on, so you can decide if it counts in the universe or not. No prior knowledge is needed to enjoy this romp.</p>
            </blockquote>





	La Découverte

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spocktacular](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spocktacular/gifts), [9_of_Clubs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/gifts).



> So, a while back, 9_of_Clubs really wanted the gang to go dancing / to a club, but I couldn't think of any way Hannibal and Will would step foot into one. Since then, spocktacular and I discovered a shared smoking fetish (it is so gross, but Mads makes cigarettes look like porn!), and there was a need for some top!Hannibal. spocktacular also provided a prompt involving Will's (not so great) reaction to a woman aggressively hitting on Hannibal. This was supposed to be quick and dirty, but is over 10,000 words, and hopefully has enough in there for both my lovelies to enjoy.
> 
>  
> 
> **I regret nothing!**

Will jumped in shock, only managing to avoid spilling his coffee all over Hannibal by the narrowest of margins. The two men exchanged glances, one of Hannibal’s eyebrows arching alarmingly high, while relief washed over Will. He had a feeling the jacket Hannibal currently had draped over his arm cost more than Will made in a month.

“Why?” he asked, voice pained as he turned to face Beverly. She was standing behind him, looking a bit sheepish over the hearty slap on the back she’d just delivered, but her chagrin didn’t last. Something had her excited enough that she was actually bouncing.

“Because you owe me, that’s why,” she answered, waggling her eyebrows at him, “and now I’m going to collect. Tomorrow is my birthday, and you’re going to help me celebrate!” Will opened his mouth to protest, and Beverly held a finger up in his face indicating his silence was required. “Brian, Jimmy, and Alana will be there. And, Hannibal, I’d love it if you would join us.”

Will looked to Hannibal, hope surging within his chest. Whatever Beverly had planned wasn’t going to be anything like what Hannibal considered fun, that much was certain, and if the good doctor managed to excuse himself from the festivities Will’s chances of escape increased dramatically. A moment later his hopes were crushed.

“It would be my pleasure,” Hannibal said, going so far as to give a little bow of acceptance.

Will gawped. “Shouldn’t you find out what you’re agreeing to before saying yes?”

Hannibal pinned Will with an appraising look. “Spontaneity plays a crucial role in the achievement of happiness. It’s important to challenge our self-imposed constraints.”

Beverly clapped, clearly thrilled with this reply. “Exactly! So, make sure you look pretty, but not overdressed. There will be dancing, and loud music, and we’ll probably be sweating our asses off before the night is over.”

Will felt his stomach clench as panic washed through him. It was worse than he’d imagined—a lengthy dinner, too many drinks, karaoke at gunpoint—because Beverly was going to make them go _clubbing_  with her. He whipped his head around to face Hannibal, eyes wide, mouth hanging slightly open, hoping… praying…

“I’ll dress him for you.”

“We’ll meet here at seven, and go grab a quick meal first,” Beverly said, “and I already told Jack that I don’t care _who_  dies, we’re _not_  working.”

And there went Will’s last hope, that someone would be horrifically, bizarrely murdered, thus rendering their plans null and void. Maybe a self inflicted gunshot wound would get him off the hook. He tried not to look absolutely miserable as Beverly bid them adieu, turning to glare at Hannibal once she was safely behind the glass doors of the BAU, and out of earshot.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Hannibal had the nerve to smile at him, one of those smouldering, knowing smiles that had the unfortunate side effect of making Will’s heart beat faster, blood instinctively pumping steadily south. He could feel his mouth hanging open as he watched Hannibal shift his weight from one leg to another, rolling his hips suggestively.

“I’m fully aware,” he said, voice pitched low as he ran his eyes over Will’s body. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some shopping to do on your behalf.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Leave them,” Hannibal instructed, as Will made a move to grab his glasses.

Their eyes met in the mirror, Will’s gaze skittering away sheepishly to focus on Hannibal’s mouth, then his own scowling reflection. Arguing was pointless, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. He released the glasses with an exaggerated movement, letting them fall back to the dresser, his disapproval obvious. Hannibal had made him shave that morning, and the lack of facial hair in combination with the missing eyewear had the unfortunate side effect of making him feel exposed, and irritable.

Hannibal smiled softly as he let his fingers slide low over the curve of Will’s left hip, in the exact location he’d rather enthusiastically left a lovebite earlier that morning. It hadn’t escaped Will’s notice that his lover had developed a habit of marking him whenever they had plans to be in public together. It had started with their date to the opera, but it wasn’t until the fourth time it happened that Will had finally made the connection, catching Hannibal staring holes through his clothing during a dinner out one evening. Will was still surprised by the extent to which he himself enjoyed the ritual, thrilling in the secret knowledge of the marks Hannibal had left hidden beneath his clothes. He leaned into Hannibal’s touch, forgetting his irritation up until Hannibal began aggressively tucking his shirt in for him, then spun him around to adjust his necktie.

“I _do_  know how to dress myself,” Will huffed.

Hannibal focused on smoothing out the lines of Will’s shirt, and affixing what was likely a ridiculously expensive watch to his wrist, not bothering to respond. At least he hadn’t gone overboard this time. The dress shirt was tighter than Will normally wore them, but was simple, and in a shade of blue that admittedly played up the color of his eyes nicely. Black trousers, a black tie, no jacket to worry about, shoes that were actually comfortable. He’d half expected to be shoved into a scaled down version of one of Hannibal’s ensembles, and had spent the day feeling itchy and uncomfortable in anticipation of the torment.

Will was slightly annoyed that he had to wear a tie when Hannibal did not, but considering he was currently admiring the undone buttons at his throat, he decided to keep his mouth shut to prevent the doctor from putting one on out of solidarity. Maybe one didn’t wear a tie with that type of shirt, which would mean Will would also lose out on enjoying the way the fabric was stretched across Hannibal’s broad chest, and shoulders, and wouldn’t that be a shame. After all, it might be the only thing that got him through the evening without eating his gun.

He was shaken from his thoughts when Hannibal began tousling his hair, working some sort of pleasant smelling product into it, but before he could complain Hannibal was kissing him; Will could feel the man’s smile curved against his mouth, and made a soft, hungry noise in response. Just when the kiss was getting interesting, Hannibal pulled away, stalking off into the bathroom, leaving Will to adjust himself and glare at his own reflection.

With a resigned sigh, Will snatched up his cell and typed a message to Beverly.

 _I hate you_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I really hate you,” Will shouted.

“I know, right?” Beverly responded enthusiastically, giving him a thumbs up.

He had a feeling that she couldn’t hear him over the music, which was far too loud, and threatening to give him a migraine. Then again, this _was_  Beverly, so there was a chance she’d understood him perfectly.

The club was, without a doubt, the worst place he’d ever been, and he spent most of his time reconstructing crime scenes. It was some hip new hybrid-monstrosity that had opened downtown the month before, and was apparently all the rage. The first floor was reminiscent of your typical club, with too many people wearing not enough clothing grinding on each other to horrible music, while the second floor had both male and female strippers, and offered up lap dances. Will hated it, wanted to run screaming from the place, but had settled for heading to the bar in order to help Beverly and Jimmy grab drinks for everyone.

Will had wisely started his drinking at dinner, and the undercurrent of alcohol already in his system was likely the only reason he wasn’t locked in a bathroom stall, waiting out this awfulness until someone came to rescue him. Everyone had cut him slack during the meal, allowing him to remain more or less silent, while Hannibal contributed to the steady flow of conversation on his behalf. If only their evening had ended there.

Currently, the light at the end of his tunnel was a lingering hope that Hannibal would only be able to handle the music and atmosphere for an hour (out of politeness), and then they could escape and salvage what was left of their evening. Maybe Hannibal would even agree to spend the night, and they could take the dogs on a long walk together in the morning.

“This place is great!” Jimmy shouted in his ear, and Will bared his teeth in an approximation of a smile.

Will whirled around to face the bartender, motioning frantically for her to return. He was going to need to finish at least two drinks while there before heading back to the table with his third.

“I can’t wait to dance,” Beverly said.

She and Jimmy decided to get a head start, and began wriggling suggestively at each other while still at the bar, something Will hadn’t ever expected to be exposed to in his lifetime. It made him sad, on so many levels. He reached behind himself, only half paying attention, grabbed his drink, and downed it in one long, desperate swallow, grimacing at the end.

“Hey!” There was a short, incredibly irritated looking, insufficiently clothed twenty-something glaring up at him. “That was _my_  drink, asshole!”

That at least explained why it had tasted all wrong. He normally avoided mixing soda with alcohol. Even with the cloying, bubbly sweetness, there was an underlying bitter awfulness that left him wanting to rinse his mouth out.

“Sorry, let me buy you another,” he offered, pulling a $20 out of his wallet.

She just gawped at him, her eyes wide and nostrils flaring. She opened her mouth once or twice, prepared to say something, but apparently decided against it, choosing instead to send a sly smile his way.

“No, you know what? _Enjoy yourself_ ,” she said, eyes running over his body. “I’ll just take this, and you have a great night, okay baby?”

Will could only blink at her, still holding his wallet as she stormed off to the other end of the bar, having snatched the $20 bill from his hand. A minute later, her little circle of girlfriends were laughing and eyeballing him. He could feel himself blushing, and scowled, turning so he wouldn’t have to see them, feeling incredibly old and uncool. He ordered yet another drink, paying far more attention this time before following Beverly and Jimmy back to the little corner of hell they’d staked out as their own.

Alana, Brian, and Hannibal were having some sort of animated conversation, and Will wondered why it was that the prissy doctor somehow managed to look as if he belonged in a place like this, despite his highbrow tastes, and the fact that there was at least a twenty year age gap between him and most of the people surrounding them.

As if sensing his discomfort—it would be hard to miss, really—Hannibal looked up, ensnared Will with his eyes, and motioned for him to insert himself in the limited space available on the couch, which would have left him nestled intimately between Hannibal and Alana. Will smiled, but gave a little head shake, deciding standing would be best for the time being. He didn’t want to get too comfortable, in case there was an opportunity to retreat.

Drinks were distributed, laughter was shared, and eventually Beverly unsuccessfully attempted to lure Will onto the dance floor with her and Jimmy. After a few more minutes, Alana and Brian decided to join their friends, leaving Will thankfully alone with Hannibal. He flopped onto the couch, burying his face in his hands.

“I recall a discussion about pushing self-imposed boundaries.” Hannibal’s breath was hot against Will’s ear.

“If you try to make me dance, we’re over,” Will said, pinning Hannibal with the full weight of one of his very best glares.

Hannibal simply smiled over the rim of his glass, and leaned back against the couch. Will shifted a little closer so they’d be able to hear each other, and Hannibal took advantage of their close proximity by placing a hand at the base of Will’s neck, stroking the fine hairs there with his thumb. He felt some of the tension uncoil from his body as the gentle touch evolved into a one handed massage.

Will was still surprised by how much he enjoyed it when Hannibal touched him in public. Surprised, and occasionally alarmed, would be more accurate, his feelings conflicted and tangled up with issues of possessiveness. They were normally careful when out in the world together, but based on what Will was seeing transpire around them a little neck massage between two men would be considered absurdly tame. Even so, the innocent touch left him with the uncomfortable impulse to crawl onto Hannibal’s lap.

Part of Will had to admit it was almost nice sitting there, the two of them creating a little island of calm amidst chaos, not even needing to speak. Hannibal’s fingernails dragged across the nape of his neck, sending shivers through his body, and Will felt his skin growing warmer. They definitely needed to get out of there as soon as possible, find a truly private spot to continue what Hannibal had started building up beneath Will’s skin.

As if sensing his impending attempt at escape, Beverly and Alana whirled back over, laughing with their arms linked. Will swallowed disappointment along with the rest of his drink as Hannibal stopped touching him. He felt flushed, and electric, a strange thrumming sensation growing within the longer he sat there, attempting to stay still.

“You can’t stay here all night,” Beverly shouted.

She snatched Will’s empty glass, grabbed him by the hands, and yanked him up and out of his seat. She was stronger than he’d given her credit for, her grip surprisingly tight around his wrist. He would actually have to hurt her in order to get free, something she’d correctly assumed he’d be unwilling to do. Will turned, looking pleadingly to Hannibal for backup, but the doctor simply smiled and refocused his attention on Alana.

“Traitor,” Will cried as he was dragged away, but Hannibal just made a little shooing motion with his hand and went back to ignoring him.

This was how he found himself in a crowd of sweaty, awful humans, fighting the urge to start elbowing everyone that came into contact with him. He had no idea what was being played, but almost against his will felt his body begin rocking in time with the music, just a little sway back and forth, and really, that wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t actually _dancing_ , the whole embarrassing flailing of limbs that people insisted was fun.

Will pressed his mouth next to Beverly’s ear. “Only because it’s your birthday,” he insisted. “And I’m leaving after this.”

Beverly just waggled her eyebrows, took his hands, and sort of danced around him while he tried his best to ignore the impulse to move to the beat. It was hot, and sort of overwhelming, his drinks catching up with him at last and seemingly all at once. It was bright and dark at the same time, colored lights flashing chaotically around them, the strobing and alcohol leaving everything oddly sharp, but surreal, and hazy around the edges at the same time.

Beside him, Jimmy and Brian were grinding on each other, and Will could only stare for a moment before bursting into laughter. Brian glared, while Jimmy gave him the finger, and Will felt guilty about his reaction.

“Sorry, it’s just that you looked so _earnest_ ,” he said, smiling wide enough that his face hurt from the effort.

“You should try having fun sometime,” Jimmy suggested, which was probably good advice. “There you go!”

And Will realized that he was no longer just swaying, he was almost bouncing in time with the music. Well… that was interesting. Beverly slapped him on the back with both hands, and he laughed again, because Beverly was great. And really pretty. And grinding against his ass, and mussing up his hair, which should have been alarming, but was actually sort of nice.

“Careful, Hannibal doesn’t like sharing,” Will heard himself saying, but it was lost in the noise and press of bodies.

Maybe the club wasn’t the worst place, after all. He was feeling decidedly good, actually, albeit overheated. His skin felt like it was on fire, alive with sensation, the tie almost erotically tight around his neck, the fabric of his shirt against his skin making him want to just… move and grind and that was how he found himself actually dancing back to back with Brian, his hands on Beverly’s waist, loving the strange things the lighting did with her face, and her hair, and her sparkly clothing as she rode his thigh.

“You’re beautiful,” he shouted, and she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “And a really good friend, you know that?”

“Oh my god, Will, how much did you drink?” she shrieked, twirling out of reach. “I’m going upstairs, c’mon!”

“I’ll be up in a minute,” he promised.

Oddly enough, he really didn’t want to leave Brian and Jimmy and the music, enjoying the strange, frenetic state he suddenly found himself in. However much he’d had to drink was, to his current way of thinking, the exact right amount, because he felt amazing!

Will lost track of time, eventually realizing he had somehow become the writhing center of a Brian and Jimmy dance sandwich, just letting himself enjoy the music, letting their movements guide his, so he didn’t really have to think about, or stress about anything that was happening. Just… flow, flowing, and yes, it was strange, because he suddenly really wanted to get to know Brian and Jimmy better. They never really got a chance to talk, did they?

He wrapped himself closer, and caught himself almost nuzzling the back of Jimmy’s neck. “You guys are really fun, I’m sorry I laughed earlier.”

When Jimmy asked, “What’s gotten into you?” Will could only giggle, because he really didn’t have an answer to that question.

Unable to take it any longer, he loosened his tie, leaving it draped around his shoulders, unbuttoning his shirt until he could feel air moving on his skin, and wow, that was _nice_. He undid his cuffs, as well, and pushed his sleeves up to expose his forearms, wished he could just take everything off.

“Let’s get something to drink,” Jimmy said, and Will nodded, trying to decipher the looks Jimmy was exchanging with Brian, as one song faded into another. Jimmy jerked his head in the direction of the bar, and gave Will a little shove to get him moving.

Will’s mouth felt incredibly dry all of a sudden, as he realized how thirsty he was. Water sounded _amazing_ , and so he followed Jimmy and Brian, almost throwing himself across the bar when he got there, grinning up at the bartender as he asked for water. On an impulse, he asked her to add a cherry and lemon slices to the water, trying to figure out why the bar looked so much shinier than it had previously. She shook her head, gave him a little wink, and passed the drink over.

The water tasted as amazing as he had hoped, and he smiled, savoring the sensation of swallowing, wondering why he’d never appreciated how great swallowing was before. Will shivered with delight as some of the cool, refreshing water dribbled out of the corners of his mouth, down over his chin, little rivulets continuing the journey over his throat, and into his shirt. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and shook his head, spinning on his heels for a refill as he chewed on his maraschino cherry, marveling at the sweetness. Maybe he’d just dump this one right over his head, instead of bothering with the whole drinking business.

“Don’t lose your Armani tie,” Brian said, catching it before it slid from Will’s shoulders.

Will shouted out his thanks, and went to shove the tie in his pocket, when Jimmy placed a hand over his, staring at him intently. “You _do_  realize that tie costs almost $200, right?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Will wrapped the tie around his neck a few times, hoping that would help keep him from losing it, even as he rocked back and forth in place and tried to comprehend how anyone could charge, let alone _pay_ , that much money for what looked to be a simple black necktie.

The pair exchanged glances, then both fixed their gaze upon Will, Jimmy’s head cocked a bit to the side. “I’m guessing Hannibal bought your clothes?”

Before Will could say one way or another, Brian was interjecting. “Oh, definitely. Those pants? Just over $600, and that shirt was at least four bills. Kmart here wouldn’t know Armani if he tripped over it.”

Will could only stare at them with his mouth hanging open, feeling incredibly uncomfortable for reasons he couldn’t quite name. He suddenly had the urge to confront Hannibal, ask how he could spend so much on an outfit that Will had assumed cost $75, all told.

At the same time, though, his sweat soaked skin seemed to respond even more to the fabric clinging to it, the fact that Hannibal had gone to such extremes to dress him up, and where the hell _was_  he, anyway? Will craned his neck and frowned, because Hannibal wasn’t seated on the couch in the corner anymore, and Will really, _really_  wanted to see him.

As if in answer to that question, Will’s pocket began to vibrate, sending shivers through his body. He fished in, grabbed his phone, and saw a message had arrived from Beverly. He blinked at his phone, rubbing his eyes, because it was much more _glowy_  than normal, probably from too much drink and not having his glasses.

_Upstairs, now! We’re near the mostly naked cowboys._

Well, that had to be wrong.

Jimmy and Brian had apparently received the same orders, so they each took an arm, and began leading Will upstairs before he was really aware of what was going on. Along the way, they almost trampled the stolen drink girl, who gave him a shit eating grin.

“Feeling good, baby?”

Will smiled stupidly. “Amazing! Thanks!”

She pulled out a little baggie filled with white tablets, and dangled it in front of the trio. “Do your friends want to get down?”

Will blinked at her, not understanding, while Jimmy gasped loudly—it had to be loud, because Will could actually hear it over the music—and turned to face Will with an incredulous look on his face.

“Will Graham, did you take Ecstasy?”

“What? No?” Will said, just as the stolen drink girl said, “Oh yeah!”

“I did not,” Will insisted, not even aware of the fact that he was stroking the side of Brian’s face, while running his other hand through Jimmy’s hair.

Beside him, Brian said, “This explains so much.”

“I know, right? I was beginning to think…”

Will tried to drown them out, focusing what was left of his attention on the girl. “Did you dose me?” he asked her, voice pitched much higher than normal.

She blinked up at him sweetly. “No, I dosed _myself_ , but you stole my drink, idiot. I hate swallowing pills, so I just dissolve the stuff in my booze.” She gave a little wave as she trotted off, shouting, “Pay better attention, next time!”

“I need to see Hannibal,” Will stammered, suddenly feeling overwhelmed, his heart racing as panic surged through him.

He’d never taken recreational drugs before, and who knew what sort of horrific chemical cocktail was now at work in his bloodstream. What if he freaked out? What if he had a heart attack, people had those, right? When on drugs? _Fuck_. Maybe more water would help, he could drink it and douse himself in it, and whatever this song was, it had a great beat. Maybe alarming Hannibal wasn’t a good idea, he could _dance_ off the drugs, just sweat them right out of his system. Or… Yes, better idea, he could dance off the drugs _with_  Hannibal. Or _on_  him.

“I need Hannibal,” he said again, heart racing for entirely different reasons now.

“That’s why we’re going upstairs, come on,” Jimmy said. He and Brian got their arms around Will, and continued onward and upward.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beverly hadn’t been joking about the cowboys. Will had managed to forget that the upstairs was where the stripping happened, but now it was impossible to ignore, as gyrating bodies in various states of undress performed around him. He could feel arousal, hot and insistent, creeping over him, giving him gooseflesh, and yes, he completely understood why this drug was named Ecstasy.

He felt _amazing_ , supercharged, and hungry for more sensory input. Although he could feel embarrassment nestled somewhere within himself, Will was unable to resist the urge to touch, marveling at how good it felt. Skin against skin would be better, the idea pressing in on him with weight, and urgency, and his surroundings were not helping the situation. Will desperately tried to block out the strippers, focusing instead on the idea of getting to Hannibal, seeing Hannibal, _touching_  Hannibal, and Jimmy laughed as Will moaned, and rubbed his face against Brian’s shoulder.

“Okay, sport, hang in there,” Brian said, sounding somewhere between pained and amused.

“You smell like tangerines,” Will said, followed by, “no wonder people do drugs.”

What Will had expected was to find Beverly, Alana, and Hannibal gathered together, drinking, laughing, possibly discussing what a stick in the mud Will Graham is. Was. That wasn’t the case, but before he could think more than, “look, mostly naked cowboys,” Beverly crashed into him, grabbing him by the shoulders.

“The most amazing thing is about to happen, I can’t believe you almost missed it!”

“Hey, Bev,” Brian said, but then Will lost interest, because he’d spotted Hannibal.

Hannibal was seated on a large leather couch, long legs spread wide, looking relaxed. There was another button undone on his shirt, his hair was loose, and tousled, as if he’d been running his fingers through it, and Will groaned. Hannibal was smiling at Alana, and the way the light hit him just… _oh,_ it was like he was glowing, like the rest of the club was dark and insignificant, and Hannibal was just this shining, delicious thing spread out and waiting for him. Will’s entire body responded, his breathing ratcheting up, and he licked his lips, trying to shove Beverly aside so he could just _go_ , get to Hannibal, and rub himself up against the man’s cheekbones, because… wow.

Beverly squealed, and stepped aside, making sure he was facing the couch as a scantily dressed blond woman walked over and plopped down onto Hannibal’s lap, leaning in so her mouth was close to his ear. Whatever it was she said caused Hannibal’s smile to widen, and Will couldn’t help but notice the hand Hannibal had placed at the small of her back, and the way she leaned into him, her breasts heaving in his face as she tipped her head back and howled with laughter.

Beverly gestured wildly with her drink. “Did you know Hannibal speaks Russian? We were at the bar and this girl—her name is Zhanna, by the way—comes up and starts ranting about something in Russian, and Hannibal turned around and said something back. Totally blew her mind, and mine. She’s been hanging out with us since. I think she’s in love! Boy is she in for a rude awakening.”

“Hey, Bev,” Jimmy attempted to derail her.

All Will could focus on was that this girl, this mostly naked Russian girl, was sitting on Hannibal’s lap, curling her bright red, full lips at him seductively. She had a bit of his hair wrapped around one of her fingers, and was all curves, and playful smiles, and _on Hannibal’s lap_.

“She works here by the way. Super, super sweet, bought me a drink. I ordered lap dances for me and Alana, because it’s my birthday, and I’ve never had one.”

“Beverly, stop for a second,” Brian tried, but Beverly continued on, saying, “Alana refused hers, of course, but Zhanna says to me,” and here Beverly adopted a very tenuous Eastern European accent, “Hannibal, I give him lap dance for free, yes? You and ‘lana no mind?”

Which at least explained why Zhanna had begun grinding against Hannibal, her body glistening, all sparkly with sweat and glitter as she swayed to the music. She was admittedly gorgeous, and Will hated how good she looked with Hannibal, hated how the man was giving her his full attention, apparently entirely at ease with what was transpiring. The soft, subtle curve of his lips shifted into a full on sensual smile as she stood and bent over, her ass all but shoved in Hannibal’s face.

“Is this not the most surreal thing you’ve ever experienced?” Beverly asked. “It is going to be really hard to top this birthday. Do you guys want lap dances?”

Will watched in horror as Zhanna shimmied, slightly distracted by the fact that at the same time she was wriggling her ass in Hannibal’s face, she was also pulling a cigarette out of a pack on the table in front of her, lighting one up before spinning to face Hannibal again. She crawled back onto his lap and undulated against him, pausing to take a long drag from the cigarette before reaching behind herself to unhook the skimpy top she was wearing, her full, admittedly lovely, breasts exposed, save for her nipples, which were thankfully covered by tasseled pasties.

There was a sense of conversation going on around him, Will was distantly aware of the fact that Beverly was being brought up to speed on his current situation, but all he could think of was that his imagination had lied to him all those months ago when he’d allowed himself to dare to think of Hannibal with a woman, and thought it to be rather sexy.

Now that he was presented with the reality, Will felt a bit like vomiting, but mostly like smashing this girl’s face in. Hannibal, on the other hand, seemed completely unphased by what was transpiring, keeping up a steady stream of conversation with Zhanna and Alana, who was trying her hardest not to laugh, and failing miserably.

The woman spun around again, began grinding her ass against Hannibal’s crotch, and winked at Will when she caught him watching. She shifted back, hooked an arm around Hannibal’s shoulders, and brought her cigarette down to his mouth. Hannibal, much to Will’s horror, took a long drag off of it, before blowing a ring of smoke back in her direction. She laughed at this, tipping back and swinging one of her legs over so she could once again straddle Hannibal, cigarette nestled back into the corner of her mouth.

Something about seeing Hannibal’s lips on that cigarette was more offensively intimate than seeing this girl on his lap, perhaps because Will had never wanted to _be_  a cigarette more in his life. Why and _how_  did he make something so unappealing look sexy? Will had never seen Hannibal smoke, always thought the man considered his body a temple, but maybe this was something he only did with women.

“Fuck.”

Will gasped, because what if Hannibal got bored with him and decided to return to women? He’d never thought to worry much about it, because Hannibal had always seemed more or less focused on _him_ , on them, but now there was this mouth watering Russian girl covering him with her scent, with her sweat, with her everything, and Will’s blood felt like it was boiling.

“Are you seriously telling me,” that was Bevery, Will recognized that was her, “that Will Graham is _rolling_  right now?”

He forced his awareness of her aside, knowing what needed to happen now, his body moving of its own accord. One minute he was listening to Beverly, the next he was stalking over to the couch, and reaching for the girl. Several emotions seemed to work their way across Hannibal’s face at the same time: pleasure at seeing Will, confusion, then shock and dismay as Will grabbed Zhanna by her hair and _yanked,_  roughly pulling her up and off of Hannibal.

The next bit seemed to happen in an excited blur, but ultimately ended with him on his ass on the couch, Hannibal standing in front of him with a hand extended to indicate Will should remain seated, while Zhanna attempted to claw her way around Hannibal in order to attack Will. His cheek was throbbing, and he realized he’d been slapped somewhere along the way, but then he was distracted by the way his own hand felt on his face, and how really and truly excellent Hannibal’s ass looked in the pants he was wearing.

There was a lot of screaming, and arguing, a great deal of it in Russian, which eventually turned into laughter, and all eyes on him as everyone was brought up to speed. Hannibal was frowning, eyes narrowed, and Will shrunk back against the couch, hating the disapproval he could feel washing off of Hannibal in waves.

“I’m so, so sorry, Zhanna,” Beverly said, and people continued to fuss over the girl, making sure she was okay, that Will hadn’t hurt her.

Which was infuriating, because he wouldn’t have had to attack her if she hadn’t crawled all over his boyfriend in the first place. And really, that word sounded so silly, didn’t it? Boyfriend? Especially considering Hannibal was a man, definitely not a boy, and lover sounded too European, and partner sounded too politically correct, and…

“Will?”

He blinked back to attention, pushing his face against Hannibal’s hand, because this was all he had wanted, just to touch and be touched by the man he loved, to share this strange, once in a lifetime state of affairs with him. Will sighed, and nuzzled into the point of physical contact, brushing his lips against Hannibal’s skin, his entire body shuddering.

“I’ve been looking for you,” he said, looking up adoringly through his lashes.

Hannibal was still frowning, and Will realized he’d caused a scene, had probably embarrassed the doctor. He’d been rude, and Hannibal abhorred rudeness. Hot waves of shame coursed through him, combatting the physical and emotional highs he was riding, and Will tried to push himself to his feet, to just… go. Somewhere. Get out of there, before he made things worse, because…

He only got as far as standing, before Hannibal had an arm around his waist, pulling him in close with an iron grip, perhaps sensing he was about to make a break for it.

“Are you ready to apologize now?” he asked, and his voice wasn’t nearly as cold as Will had expected it to be.

Will swallowed, nodded, but was distracted by the warm press of Hannibal’s body against his, the way his skin looked, and the way he smelled. Which was probably why he pushed himself closer still, rocking the growing hardness in his pants against Hannibal’s hip. He could feel Hannibal’s sigh, even if he couldn’t hear it, before the doctor untangled himself, gripping Will by the back of his neck and steering him over to where Zhanna sat, an arm around Beverly’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry I pulled your hair,” Will said, “Somebody drugged me, but that’s no excuse.”

“Is fine,” she said, waving at him dismissively.

She settled back against the couch, nestled between Beverly and Alana, and began speaking with Hannibal in Russian, gesturing rather provocatively a few times along the way. Will ground his teeth in frustration. It took all of his very limited self control to keep from lunging at her again, and perhaps Hannibal could sense the impending explosion, because he tightened his grip on the back of Will’s neck. Which was unexpectedly arousing, and Will hoped his erection wasn’t obvious. The way they were standing, it felt almost as if Hannibal was presenting him to a panel of judges.

Will turned as best he could, attempting to make eye contact, and Hannibal loosened his grip somewhat. Will pressed the advantage and shifted so that Hannibal was standing between him and the rest of the group.

“Can we go?” Will begged.

A little frown was still visible at the corners of Hannibal’s mouth, as he gave a terse nod, and said goodbye on their behalf, Beverly wishing them luck as they began to walk away.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The car ride had been silent, and uncomfortable, as Hannibal drove them back to his home, which was closest, on the grounds that Will would require observation. Will felt ashamed, embarrassed, and still incredibly good all at the same time, unable to stop appreciating the feeling of the air on his skin, the plush leather of Hannibal’s car seats, and the way the classical music sounded as it filled up the silent spaces between them.

Will wasn’t sure what to expect as far as the rest of their evening went. He supposed Hannibal would try to sober him up, or just make sure he didn’t get dehydrated, and then force him to eventually sleep it off. While it would be the responsible approach, Will hated the idea. He was never going to willingly take something like this again, so if it had to happen, he sort of was of the opinion that he should enjoy it, not try to squash the sensation.

With a resigned sigh, Will followed Hannibal into the house.

“Upstairs, please,” Hannibal instructed.

Will hung his head as he began the walk of shame, feeling like each step was harder than the one before. He allowed himself to be herded into the bedroom, Hannibal instructing him to stop once he’d reached the foot of the bed, which was where he stood, eyes closed and shoulders slumped, waiting for the chewing out he was sure to receive.

“Have you seen yourself?”

Will allowed his eyes to flutter open, confused by the question. Hannibal was watching him, an unreadable expression on his face. Will swallowed, shook his head, and shifted uncomfortably. He stood, rocking slightly on his heels as he waited, trying not to be distracted by the little bits of glitter he could pick out on Hannibal’s clothes, left behind by the Russian girl.

“I thought as much.” Hannibal stared at him a moment, before motioning towards the master bathroom. “You should have another glass of water.”

“I’m sorry I…”

“Will.”

Hannibal’s tone was brusque, and Will bit down on the apology, turning sharply on his heels in order to head into the bathroom and do as he was instructed. The water was still amazingly refreshing, and a happy distraction from the baseline arousal, and the mix of unpleasant emotions. He probably dallied longer than necessary, using the facilities, washing his hands for about five minutes, steadfastly avoiding his own reflection, until there was nothing left to do but return to the bedroom.

Hannibal was waiting for him, hand resting on the back of one of the leather chairs, which Will could see had been turned around while he had been in the bathroom. It no longer faced the table, or the matching chair, but now faced the large mirror that was normally behind it. Hannibal crooked a finger, motioning for Will to join him.

Will swallowed, approaching cautiously, breath hitching in his chest when Hannibal reached out to wrap a hand around his wrist, tugging, and then Will was stumbling through the space between them, ultimately bumping his chest against Hannibal’s.

For a bright, shining moment, Will thought Hannibal was going to kiss him, and his entire body tingled with the anticipation. What happened instead, though, was Hannibal took his pulse, and tilted his head in order to get a better look at his pupils.

“Do you feel as if the effects have plateaued, or are they continuing to build?”

Will blinked, thought about it a moment. While they had been at the club it had felt like everything was building, and building, but when he actually considered his current state of affairs, he decided he must have reached some peak, with nowhere left to climb.

“Uh, plateaued?”

Hannibal smiled softly at this, and cupped Will’s face, slowly sliding his thumb back and forth over the man’s lower lip, until Will shuddered, and gave a little moan of pleasure.

“The girl,” Hannibal said, and Will tensed, working his jaw a bit. “While flattering, your behavior speaks of a lack of confidence in my commitment.”

Will’s eyes widened, and he attempted to protest, to explain, but Hannibal cut him off with a kiss. It was soft, but insistent, and Will sighed into it, into the comfortable familiarity of Hannibal’s lips against his, the way Hannibal was nuzzling his mouth, teasing out sensation, making him tremble. He grabbed hold of Hannibal’s hips, more for something to hold onto than for any specific purpose, but was unable to keep his hands from roaming over the broad back, and the curve of Hannibal’s ass.

“You are in need of education, Will,” Hannibal whispered hotly against his mouth.

He didn’t have a chance to ask what that meant as Hannibal pulled away from the kiss, and manhandled Will until he was able to see himself in the mirror. He kept his eyes focused around chest level, stomach flip-flopping uncomfortably.

“Look at me,” Hannibal ordered, and without hesitation, Will did as was asked.

Hannibal was watching him intently, waves of heat coming off of his body as he stood behind Will, contemplative and perhaps even amused. Will puzzled over this, but was distracted by the feeling of Hannibal’s hands skimming over his abdomen, pulling him in tight. Oh. _Well_. Maybe he wasn’t in for a lecture after all. Hannibal was already hard, pressing himself against Will’s ass.

“Now, look at yourself.”

Will really didn’t want to. He was happy to roll his hips against Hannibal, pressing back against that hardness, against all of Hannibal, was much more comfortable keeping his eyes on the reflection of Hannibal’s mouth. But then one of Hannibal’s hands snaked up Will’s body, grabbed him by the chin, almost roughly even, and forced his face forward.

It took several attempts before Will was finally able to look at himself in the mirror. First, he focused on Hannibal’s hand, then allowed himself to move onto his own mouth a moment or two later, surprised by the way his lips looked. They were slightly parted, the lower a bit more swollen and pink than he suspected was normal. He let his eyes move onto flushed cheeks, then back down his body to where he could see the outline of his own erection, then back up to his partially unbuttoned shirt. He could see his skin was flushed, the necktie was no longer anywhere to be found, and the blue fabric was hugging his skin, clearly sticking a bit due to the sweating he had been doing earlier. His throat next, the long length of it, the visible bobbing of his Adam’s apple as he swallowed.

The eyes were last, of course, and Will’s breath caught in his chest when he finally saw the blown pupils, the strange, frantic, _obvious_  desire in his glassy eyes. Holding his breath, he allowed himself another surveying to confirm how vulnerable, how raw he appeared to be. He stared, and stared, finally shifting his gaze to Hannibal.

Oh, and _Hannibal_. What was that look all about? Will hardly had time to process the intensity in Hannibal’s eyes before his head was being turned roughly, and Hannibal was kissing him again. He gasped, tried to catch his breath, because there was nothing soft, or teasing about this kiss, it was dirty, and hungry. Hannibal’s tongue was insistent, forcing its way into Will’s mouth, and unable to help himself, he sucked on it, trying to pull him in deeper, groaning.

One of Hannibal’s hands remained stationary, holding Will’s head in place, making sure he couldn’t escape the kiss—as if he would want to—while the other began to roam. Long, broad, open handed strokes up and over, slowly untucking Will’s shirt, then sliding underneath. Will groaned again, shuddering, because Hannibal’s hand was warm, and insistent, and everywhere he touched cried out in appreciation and pleasure.

This was what he had needed at the club, this was what every last inch of him had been crying out for, what he had been desperate for when forced to watch while someone else occupied his rightful place. All he could think of was getting her away from what was his, as a deep, hidden exhibitionist desire within cheered, wanting him to take her place, to writhe and grind on Hannibal in public, let everyone see, and know, and… he was more comfortable pretending that was only because of the drugs.

He squirmed in Hannibal’s embrace, panting hotly into the kiss as he worked his ass against Hannibal’s hardness, as he pushed himself into Hannibal’s touch, just wanting, needing, more of him, and… and then Hannibal stopped kissing him, turned his head to face forward again, and Will looked, and saw, and couldn’t believe that was _him_  in the mirror.

He looked undone, in the best possible way, flushed pink, and dreamy eyed, his hair sticking up in places, his hard nipples visible through the thin fabric of his shirt, the other hardness equally visible in his pants, his mouth wet, and slack, the heaving of his chest, the completely lost expression in his eyes. It suddenly occurred to him that Hannibal was going to fuck him in front of the mirror, and as much as the idea _terrified_  him, it also excited him beyond reasoning.

Will tried to concentrate on breathing, as he watched Hannibal watching him, entire body jerking with surprise when Hannibal grabbed his shirt by either side and _pulled_ , sending buttons flying, the sound of them skittering against the floor somehow arousing. Will swallowed, wanted to say something about how much the shirt had cost, about how unlike Hannibal it was to be so disrespectful to clothing, but it all died in his throat. Because Hannibal’s hands were roaming over the exposed skin, sliding hotly over his flanks, then up to tease Will’s nipples.

Will let his head fall back to rest against Hannibal as he moaned, reaching behind himself to grab hold of whatever he could, trying to pull Hannibal closer, even as he arched into the touch, panting softly in time with the gentle tugging, the almost maddening brush of Hannibal’s thumbs over his absurdly sensitive nipples.

Hannibal pressed his mouth against Will’s throat, sucking, growling hotly into his ear, ordering him to look at himself again. Will was already so undone, it was maddening. He could only shudder with appreciation, loving the hungry, needy expression Hannibal wore, the possessiveness he could see there as he mercilessly teased Will’s nipples. Loving that he saw all that, and more, reflected in his own eyes.

“How could I want anything else?” Hannibal asked, sliding one of his large hands lower. Will cried out loudly in pleasure as Hannibal began stroking him through his pants, feeling overloaded with sensation, because he was _watching_. That was Hannibal’s hand, right there in the mirror, fondling him just the right side of roughly, that was Hannibal’s other hand, splayed against his heaving chest to hold him in place as he shook with sensation.

“I know,” Will gasped, grinding against Hannibal, feeling exposed in the best possible way. Their reflections locked eyes, and Will shuddered again. “It’s just…” he sucked on his lower lip, his eyes fluttering, and he reached up and behind in order to stroke Hannibal’s face, in order to fist a hand in his hair. “You’re mine,” Will finally managed.

Hannibal growled, low and dangerous, against Will’s throat, his hands sliding down to begin unbuttoning Will’s pants. He panted, swallowing, drinking in his own reflection. Did Hannibal always make him look like this? Like some strange, transformed, hungry thing? He’d never really been one to focus on his own appearance, more interested in blending in than anything else, but the Will Graham he saw in this mirror was a creature altogether different. He was glistening skin, and visible muscle, flushed, and desperate, and beautiful, and Hannibal’s.

Watching Hannibal pulling his cock out of his pants was almost enough to send Will over the edge, it was simply so surreal. That was him, and he’d never thought of his dick as pretty, or anything more than functional, but something about the way he was jutting out of his own pants—hard and thick and insistent—was downright pornographic, in the best possible sense. The view was only improved by Hannibal’s hand curling around him, holding him insistently at the base, and somehow even more blood seemed to pump through his body and into his cock.

Hannibal loosened his grip somewhat, and Will couldn’t figure out where he was supposed to look, his eyes darting everywhere as he took in Hannibal’s hungry expression, the intensity in his eyes, as he looked into his own eyes to see the answering hunger, as he stared hopelessly at Hannibal’s beautiful, elegant hand slowly, maddeningly slowly, stroking his hardness. Open palmed, pressing him against himself, teasingly.

“Don’t move,” Hannibal ordered, and Will nodded, freezing in place.

Will watched as Hannibal slid the ruined shirt off of him, then worked his pants the rest of the way off, indicating Will should step out of them. Then they were out of the way, and he was toeing off his socks, while Hannibal removed and set aside the watch, and then he was naked, in Hannibal’s bedroom, standing in front of a mirror, admittedly turning himself on from the view. Unable to help himself, Will stretched, watching the ripple of his muscles in the mirror, wondering when the embarrassment was going to kick in, but all of his insecurities felt surprisingly distant.

Hannibal was making short work of his own clothing, and Will watched, sneaking glances back at his own face to marvel over the way he looked when he was ogling Hannibal, wondering idly if people could see this in day to day life. Did this happen to his face when the man walked into the room? Was he always so obvious? Did everyone know, and understand, the gravitational pull between the two of them?

But then Hannibal was back, and he was naked now, and he had set a bottle of lube on the dresser, and spun Will round roughly so they were pressed together, was kissing him again, their cocks hard and insistent between them. Will’s eyes drifted back to the mirror, his desire ratcheting impossibly higher at the sight of them rubbing against each other, of himself clutching at Hannibal as if he was a life preserver, of the crushing press of their mouths.

Hannibal ended the kiss, teeth dragging over Will’s lower lip as he pulled away. He placed his hands on Will’s shoulders, and _pushed_ , and then Will was on his knees. He blinked, his eyes returning to study their reflections in the full length mirror, and yes, that was him. That was _him_ , and that was Hannibal’s cock, teasing his mouth, back and forth, and that _really was him_ , that was his mouth, and he looked into his own eyes as he licked his lips and wrapped them around the head of Hannibal’s cock.

That was awful, and dirty, and beautiful, god, yes, that was him and he was sucking Hannibal’s cock, and he could see the reflection of his own bobbing in front of him, hard and… because he loved this, didn’t he? Yes, he _loved_  this, loved it in ways that were irrational and all consuming, he loved the little noises he couldn’t help but make, as Hannibal grabbed him and held him in place, and took over control.

He looked desperate, and a little insane, as he pushed into the tight hold Hannibal had on his jaw, as he licked and sucked as much as possible each time Hannibal fucked his way back into his mouth, only to pull out fully a moment later. Will watched himself, fixated by the way his reflected mouth looked, shuddering with desire, relaxing his throat and _groaning_  as Hannibal slid in deeper, harder, and god, had he always loved sucking cock so much?

The Will in the mirror might as well have been some wet dream fantasy version of himself; he felt so removed from his normal inhibitions, it was maddening. The Will in the mirror tried to swallow around the head of Hannibal’s cock every time it hit the back of his throat, panted and groaned and made wet little hungry noises of disappointment every time Hannibal pulled out. But, no, that was definitely him, that was his mouth getting fucked, that was his spit all over Hannibal’s cock, and those were his hands, grabbing for Hannibal’s hips and trying to pull him closer, to just take it all, deep and _hard_ and…

And he was being pulled to his feet, and Hannibal was kissing him again, and Will felt like his entire mouth was alive with pleasure, his entire body was tingling, and hot, and hungry for more, for touch, for everything and anything, as long as it involved the two of them.

Hannibal fussed with the chair for a moment, then shoved Will onto it, so that he was kneeling, his elbows braced against the low back of the chair. If he turned his head to the right, he could still easily see them in the mirror, and watched Hannibal’s reflection reposition him so that his legs were further apart.

Oh. He was definitely going to lose his mind, because Hannibal had taken hold of him, was spreading him open, was… Will threw his head back and moaned loudly, blinking rapidly, trying to keep his eyes open so he could watch as Hannibal licked roughly against his asshole, his mouth hot, and insistent, and just…

Will couldn’t stop staring, couldn’t stop marveling over the sight of Hannibal with his face buried between his ass cheeks, couldn’t believe how devastating those long, broad strokes of his tongue were. Wet, and dirty, and insistent, and wriggling against him, and Will shoved back into the contact, even as he watched his own face and simply marveled.

Will sighed and thrilled, because this particular act was never one he had imagined being on the receiving end of, and certainly had never considered performing on another person. Not until Hannibal, of course, who loved both giving and receiving, who had such a wicked tongue, and such a willingness to bury it in Will’s ass.

Surprisingly it had taken several times of being on the receiving end before Will actually felt comfortable with the act, confident enough to ride out the waves of pleasure, encouraging Hannibal on, as he began fantasizing about doing the same to Hannibal. He could still remember the triumphant look that had been in Hannibal’s eyes the first time he had said, “I want to taste you,” and Hannibal had understood what he was offering.

Yet, here he was, kneeling on a ridiculously expensive chair in front of an equally expensive mirror, slowly stroking his cock, while watching himself get rimmed, and thinking, “I’m beautiful.” He’d never thought that about himself before, and was embarrassed, but also pleased by the thought. This was what Hannibal could transform him into, this lovely, needy thing.

The drugs were helping, that much was obvious, his body still electric and operating entirely outside of normal parameters, the neurotransmitters in his brain showing him what he was capable of feeling with the right chemical balance. But, in the end, all of it was still him, a liberated, unencumbered version of him. So he sighed, pushed back against the heat and wetness of Hannibal’s tongue and lips, and road out the waves of pleasure.

It was over far too soon, and he made a loud noise of disappointment, until Hannibal pressed a finger into him. Oh, and that was even better, that was… just… perfect, because now there were two, and it wasn’t like Hannibal to be impatient, but this wasn’t like most nights, was it? Most nights Will wasn’t such a… He searched for the word, but gave up, too distracted by the look he could see on Hannibal’s reflection’s face, as he stroked himself slowly with one hand while his fingers worked in and out of Will’s ass.

“Hannibal,” he gasped, and clenched down on the fingers. “Just fuck me.” He reached between his legs to stroke himself again, entire body a shuddering live wire of pleasure. “Please,” he added a moment later.

Hannibal grabbed him by the hips, lifted him up and off of the chair, and kissed him quickly, urgently, before making more adjustments. Then he was working lube over his cock, was bringing Will back to the chair, was sitting down and… oh. _Oh_.

Will swallowed, his entire body trembling as he allowed Hannibal to guide his movements, shifting them both, until he was staring into the mirror, seeing himself poised above Hannibal, spread open, legs almost uncomfortably wide. Thankfully, the chair was also wide, allowing him just enough room to have somewhere for his feet, which were braced on the outside of Hannibal’s thighs. The doctor used his considerable strength as additional support, which was good because Will was trembling, and covered in a light sheen of sweat. As Hannibal kissed behind his ear, nuzzled the back of his neck and tugged on his earlobe, Will could actually _see_  the thick jut of Hannibal’s cock straining up toward _him_ , poised between _his_  legs, could see his own hand reaching to steady it, could see the completely devastating _need_  and _want_ on his own face as he slowly, maddeningly slowly, lowered himself onto Hannibal’s cock.

He watched his mouth fall open, could see his muscles trembling, could finally see what he looked like when he made those noises. Pleasure, and pain, and want, and _fuck_ he should have let Hannibal open him up more, but there was something devastatingly wonderful about the sting, about the vulnerability he could see all over his face as he took more and more of Hannibal inside of himself, crying out all the while.

And then he could only lean back, certain he was crushing the good doctor with his dead weight, but just needing a moment to catch his bearings, to adjust, to deal with the fact that he could _see_  all of this, could see where they were joined, could see how his thighs were trembling, and he needed, so very very much in that moment, to see more. To see the hot slide of Hannibal’s cock reshaping him, to see their hips slamming together, to see himself, his completely unabashed, hungry self, ride Hannibal’s cock.

Hannibal’s hands were gripping him tightly, pushing up, guiding his movements, supporting him as he forced Will’s hips up. Will arched, repositioning his feet so he had a bit better leverage, arms back and hands gripping the sides of the chair as he craned his neck to watch in the mirror, surprising himself by letting out a little delighted laugh of pleasure.

“Oh god, Hannibal,” he gasped, smiling at their reflections, as he began to work himself up and down, slowly, but insistently, fucking himself. Hannibal’s cock was impossibly hard, and sliding obscenely up and into him, shiny from the lube, as the doctor held Will in place for a moment and just fucked up into him, hard and dirty and Will loved it, loved every second, every inch, loved the way his mouth hung slack with pleasure, the way his own cock looked, bobbing in time with Hannibal’s thrusts.

“I can’t believe that’s me,” he think he said, and perhaps, “you feel so good.” There might also have been, “Harder, fuck me harder.”

Ecstasy wasn’t the word for it anymore, it was some strange, animal state of affairs, with Hannibal grunting beneath him, and his entire body trembling with the strain of the position, the strain and discomfort a lovely counterbalance to the waves of pleasure rocketing through him each time Hannibal slammed into him. Will worked his hips, feeling himself quickly losing the strength to support his own weight, but unable to stop, just needing more, and more, and when Hannibal ordered him to touch himself, Will did so, now awkwardly balanced on two legs and one hand, entire body shaking with strain.

But it was wonderful, it was amazing, and he stared, lost in the way Hannibal was consuming him with his eyes, lost in the sight of Hannibal’s cock slamming into him again and again, lost to see his own fist working his hardness, teasing the head of his own cock, and feeling filthy and wonderfully alive, and the center of the universe.

Hannibal slowed their movements, holding Will tightly against him, their skin hot and damp and slippery with sweat. Will’s breathing was ragged, and he trembled like a broken thing, unable to stop moving entirely, needing to continue rocking himself, feeling impossibly full, and yet not full enough. Hannibal was licking and sucking everywhere he could get his mouth, nuzzling his neck, his five o’clock shadow wonderfully rough against Will’s skin.

Will twisted, contorting himself so they could get their mouths on each other, so he could kiss hungrily. Hannibal’s hand was at his throat, tight, almost too tight, but oh so good, just holding him there, as he licked and sucked and tried to breathe. His hips rocked spasmodically, as Hannibal wrapped a hand around his cock, and pumped, slow, maddeningly slow, slowing down his own thrusts. Even as their movements stilled, their mouths were battling, until Will began pleading against Hannibal’s lips.

Somewhere, somehow, Hannibal found the strength to separate them, leaving Will momentarily feeling cold, and empty. But then Will was half-kneeling on the chair, half standing, with Hannibal hot and urgent behind him, just… _oh_ … not wasting any time, just slamming back into him, and Will grabbed onto the back of the chair for support and cried out in pleasure, as Hannibal began thrusting into him, rough, and hard, fingers digging into Will’s thighs.

Panting loudly, he turned and grinned wildly at his own reflection. Did anyone who knew them have any idea whatsoever that _this_  is what Hannibal could turn him into? This strange doppelgänger, who was working his hips back frantically in an attempt to get as much as possible, needing it hard, and deep, and he was seeing stars.

Will momentarily lost himself in admiration. Hannibal was beautiful, dangerously beautiful, watching him with an intensity that bordered on the unbearable. Seeing him behind himself like that, the way his hair was sticking up or stuck to him, the way his skin glistened, seeing the way Hannibal’s lips were pulled back slightly from his teeth as he worked his cock in and out of Will… It was just ridiculous, so much so that for a moment he was actually jealous of his own reflection.

“Touch yourself, and keep watching,” Hannibal ordered, and Will groaned in response.

He rested his cheek against the back of the chair, bracing himself with one hand, while wrapping a fist around his cock. He could feel Hannibal watching him, watching him watch himself, as he tugged, and teased, and worked precum over the head of his cock, as he paused to accept the bit of lube Hannibal was offering, and that was even better, his fist slick as he thrust into it.

“Can you see what you do to me?” Will asked, struggling to keep his eyes open.

He looked broken, and it was amazing. His hair was plastered to his head, his mouth looked soft, and _used_ , and his eyes were bright and _lost_ , as he gasped, and moaned. Hannibal had a hand on the back of his neck, one on his hips, was holding him in place, keeping him from flying apart at the seams, and it was wonderful. The way Hannibal’s eyes were fucking him would have been enough to make him lose his mind, but the doctor had also changed the angle of penetration slightly, so each thrust was just pounding against Will’s prostate, sending waves of brutal pleasure singing through his body.

Will wouldn’t be able to hold on much longer. His balls were tight, and tingling, and everything that made him Will Graham was shrieking for release. He was begging himself at this point, looking to his reflection as if the person in the mirror could help him, somehow, could take them both over the edge.

It wasn’t until Hannibal said, “Now, Will,” that he finally let himself be carried away in an avalanche of pleasure. The person in the mirror shook with the force of it, gasping and moaning, and cuming in large, almost confusing bursts, thick and dirty, dribbling all over his fist, spilling out onto the chair, splattering his own chest, crying and clenching down on Hannibal and…

And Hannibal pulled out of him, roughly now, flipped Will over so he was seated in the chair, although sprawled messily across the chair was a more accurate description. He still had his own cock in his hand, was riding lingering, almost painful waves of pleasure and sensitivity, as he looked up at Hannibal.

He was amazing, this intimidating, solid wall of need made flesh, as he swooped in and claimed Will’s mouth in a searing kiss. Biting, licking his way inside, their bodies rubbing roughly against each other, and Will wanted to climb inside Hannibal and never come back, loved the feeling of being devoured.

Between them, Hannibal was stroking himself, and Will reached down to help, wrapping his sticky hands around Hannibal’s cock, squeezing, gasping in pleasure at the feeling of Hannibal’s cock throbbing in his hands, close now, closer, and Will kissed him like his life depended on it, wanting to get fucked all over again. If he was being honest, he wanted to spend the rest of his life on his knees for this man, and maybe he actually said that last part out loud, because Hannibal pulled back slightly and gave him such an open, wonderfully needy and vulnerable look before cuming all over Will in great, shuddering bursts.

They remained tangled together, hands working slowly, milking Hannibal, eyes locked, but then Will was being kissed again, softly, tenderly. They were a mess, he could feel them sticking together, with sweat and semen, and although it probably should have, it didn’t stop him from grabbing Hannibal’s face, holding him there and just kissing him, and kissing him.

When he could think again, Will looked in the mirror and wondered if he always smiled crazily after they had sex. He couldn’t get the grin off of his face, and after a moment or two stopped trying, concentrating on breathing, and the heavy weight of Hannibal on top of him, and how they definitely needed to try this again. Maybe Hannibal would let himself be fucked in front of the mirror, and thinking it made a shiver run through his body.

“Shall we take a hot shower?” Hannibal asked, mouth warm and wet against the curve of Will’s jaw.

Will swallowed, and was surprised by how raw his voice was when he managed to squeak out a _yes_.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next time Will saw Beverly, she was kind enough to thank him for attending her birthday party before lecturing him on the dangers of unattended drinks in public places, and informing him of how much money Zhanna had ultimately guilt tripped her out of, and how Jimmy and Brian were probably going to call him Dancing Queen for at least a couple of months.

“I’m never going anywhere with you ever again, you realize,” he told her, accepting her peace offering of coffee. He could feel his face darkening with embarrassment.

“Well, I hope you managed to enjoy the drugs while you had them, since Hannibal will probably kill you if it ever happens again.”

Although he attempted to prevent it from happening, Will couldn’t hold back the onslaught of image and sensation that washed over him in response to her words. He felt Hannibal in him again, hot and insistent, thought of his own eyes and mouth and of seeing himself cum. Thought of the long shower after, of lathering, and touching, and of Hannibal making him cum all over again, his fingers buried in Will’s ass, as he deep throated him under the spray of hot water.

“Oh. My. God.”

Beverly was staring at him, and Will blushed harder, hiding behind his glasses, and his growth of beard, shrinking into his flannel and attempting to become one with his environment. But Beverly was smiling at him, and it was far more affectionate than it was perverted, much to his relief.

“Well, I’m glad one of us got lucky on my birthday,” she said with a laugh.

“I think everyone but you got laid on your birthday,” Brian said, slapping Will on the back as he walked by them, heading into the lab.

“Worst birthday ever,” Beverly shouted, storming off after him, forgetting all about Will, clearly intent on getting gossip about Brian and Jimmy.

Will stood outside of the lab, holding his coffee, grinning like an idiot. That lasted all of a minute before his phone was vibrating, and he was looking at a photo of himself sandwiched between Brian and Jimmy on the dance floor, with the message, _Didn’t get laid, but did get blackmail material! I own you._


End file.
